The Cabinet Maker

Literotic asexstories – The Cabinet Maker by trobson808,trobson808
It was certainly the most unusual request I had ever received in almost 20 years as a cabinet maker.

“Did I hear you correctly,” I said, “you want to commission a fucking machine for your wife?” I had to sit down. Luckily there was a chair, strategically positioned next to the phone in my workshop.

“That’s right,” came the matter-of-fact answer. “She’s seen one on a web site that has rather taken her fancy and I’m looking for someone to make something similar. I was given your name by one of your clients. He was extremely complementary about the standard of your work.”

“That’s nice to hear,” I was flattered, “but I must tell you I have never even thought about making such a thing, maybe you should try and find someone with er… more relevant experience.” I wasn’t trying to do myself out of work, but I was a bit blind-sided by the idea.

“Ah, well, that’s not as easy as it sounds,” the disembodied voice on the phone reasoned. “How many woodworkers feature sex machines as a speciality in their marketing material?…I’ll tell you the answer, exactly none.”

I could see his point.

“Look,” he continued, “why don’t you meet my wife, and she can explain what she wants. After you two have talked, you can decide whether you want to go ahead. If not, there’s no harm done, and if you decide it’s something you can do, that’s great. Money is not really a problem by the way. It’s a quality job we’re after.”

By that time, I had recovered from my initial shock and was thinking a little more rationally, so I said, albeit rather cautiously.

“That sounds reasonable. I won’t make any promises until I know more about what’s needed but I am happy to meet you both and discuss your… er needs.”

“Excellent!” There was evident relief in his voice, and I briefly wondered how many other calls he had made in his quest for a craftsman willing to embark on this exotic project. “My name is Dave and my wife is Lisa,” he said, “can I get her to call you tomorrow to fix up an appointment?”

I answered in the affirmative and after a short exchange of pleasantries he hung up, leaving me to ponder the possibilities.

The next morning, I answered the phone to a rather bubbly lady who admitted to being Lisa and we agreed that she would come to my workshop in the afternoon of the same day. It’s not that often people visit me in my place of work, and I felt the need to make an effort to clean it up. So, by the time the bell rang, the place looked pretty good, at least to my eyes. Most of the tools were back in the racks where they belonged, wood scraps were in the various bins, and even the fine layer of dust that inevitably covers everything in a busy shop had been ruthlessly sucked up.

When the bell rang I opened the door and beheld Lisa for the first time. On the threshold stood a tall, shapely, bright-eyed woman, in her late twenties I guessed, with a smile that lit up the room. She was dressed in jeans and a short, loose-fitting top held up by tiny straps which left both her midriff and shoulders bare. The way the silky material of her top flowed over her breasts suggested that she wore nothing beneath and her smile, as my glance lingered longer than was strictly polite, hinted that she had expected me to notice.

“You must be Pete,” she said, and I ushered her in, feeling glad I had swept the floor clean of the wood shavings which would otherwise have found their way between the elegant toes that were barely protected by the pale-coloured, almost sole-less sandals which adorned her feet. She wore hardly any jewellery, just a simple gold wedding band, discrete earrings with a matching stud in her, rather cute, navel.

Lisa put out her hand and I shook it, the contrast between her elegant, well-manicured digits and my still-dusty paw seemed not to faze her at all. She sat in the chair, apparently at ease, while I perched on the edge of my workbench, having totally forgotten that I needed to get another chair in.

I offered her a cup of tea, which she politely refused, and I resolved to get some new mugs, if ever I brought a client to my workshop again. I made a cup for myself though, glancing over my shoulder and making small talk while my hands were occupied in this mundane task. With my steaming mug of tea in hand, sitting back on the bench, I felt ready to broach the subject of Lisa’s visit.

“So, Lisa,” I said, “your husband said you have a project in mind that I might be able to help with.”

She looked me straight in the eye and said, “yes, I want you to make me a fucking machine.”

I was taken aback, I had expected at least some beating around the proverbial bush before we got to the heart of the matter. Even people who want an occasional table have been known to take fifteen minutes to get to the point. I thought I had better slow things down a bit.

“As I told your husband…”

“Dave,” she interrupted.

“Dave then,” I continued undeterred, “as I told Dave, it’s a bit of an unusual request, I’m just not sure I’m the right man for the job. I don’t want to disappoint you, but I never take on a job where I don’t think I can delight my client. We need to talk about what you would like, but I can’t make any promises. In any case, you haven’t seen my work, what made you chose me?”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” she said, “It’s not a coincidence that I’m here. Dave and I had been looking for six months before we found you. And I have seen lots of examples of things you’ve made. I’m sure you know that you have a reputation for top quality craftsmanship, but you may not know that your past customers think that you’re dead straight and that there’s no problem you can’t solve. Generally, they think you’re a bit of a genius.”

“How on earth…” I was starting to feel out manoeuvred, flattered too obviously, but on the back foot, certainly.

“It’s a long story but if you doubt me, I can give you a list of people who have been kind enough to let us visit their homes and showed us the things you made for them.” I’m sure that you will be able to, how did you put it, ‘delight me.’ Oh, and I came to see you today to find out whether you’re the sort of person I like and can trust. After all, before this thing is finished, I’m going to have literally and metaphorically to expose rather a lot of myself to you, aren’t I?”

I took her question as rhetorical, and I hadn’t had time to think about what the actual construction of the machine might entail, not having any experience in this genre of craftsmanship. But she had obviously done some thinking; quite a lot by the sound of it. I supposed there was no harm in exploring further. Perhaps she sensed my acquiescence because she became more conciliatory.

“Look,” she said, “if you let me wash one of those revoltingly filthy mugs of yours. I’ll have a cup of tea and I’ll explain what I want. Better than that, I’ll show you; I have a video on my phone which is the inspiration for the whole thing.”

So, I smiled and let her wash my only slightly soiled mug and make herself tea. While she was busy, I went and found an old stool that awaited repair, and I sat on it next to her chair while she held her phone between us.

“We probably don’t need to watch it all the way through,” she said, “it’s about forty minutes long and becomes a bit repetitive but you’ll get the idea of how the machine works much quicker than me trying to describe it. Ready?”

I nodded, not knowing what to expect, and she started up the video.

It started with a tracking shot of what looked like a black padded massage table, surrounded by several wooden balls, each fixed to the end of an articulated metal rod. One of these protruded from the table about one third along its length, extending about three inches above the surface of the table.

The next sequence showed a smaller table on which was a set of carved wooden dildoes, in various shapes and sizes, made from what looked like polished ash. A young woman stepped in from the side, apparently naked, although only her hands and midriff were in shot, and handled some of them briefly, implying I supposed that she was choosing amongst them.

The camera pulled back to show the naked and stunning looking woman, positioning herself on the table, lying on her front with her legs apart, her pert buttocks elevated by a small wedge-shaped cushion beneath her pelvis. Disembodied, black gloved hands then proceeded to adjust the metal arms so that the wooden balls were placed against various parts of her body. One each for the soles of her feet, one on each buttock, and one on the palm of each upturned hand. Then the purpose of the ball protruding from the tabletop became clear; it was in the perfect place to snug up against her clitoris. The gloved hands seemed to linger over this one, positioning it carefully while the camera zoomed in to focus lovingly on her shaved pussy.

Some kind of rhythmic trance music began to play, and it seemed that each articulated arm, ball attached, pulsated to the rhythm, stimulating her wherever they touched. This continued for several minutes, during which time the woman became increasingly aroused, her body twitching and jerking. The gloved hands reappeared and brought up another of the articulated arms, but this time instead of the ball, a long, curved dildo was attached. After lubricating it thoroughly, the hands carefully pushed it into her pussy and tightened the knurled wheel holding it in position.

“There’s about another twenty minutes of this,” Lisa said, “let me fast forward to the next section.” I nodded, although I had rather started to enjoy the sights and sounds of this ravishing woman’s arousal. But Lisa wanted to move on, and she was the customer. She took the phone and fiddled with it before holding it out again so we could both see the screen.

The gloved hand was removing the probe and balls and the naked woman raised herself to a doggy position. She held herself in that way while the camera tracked over and around her wonderful body, now aglow with the heat of her arousal. The gloved hands appeared back in the frame, first inserting a long straight probe deep into her pussy and then one-by one repositioning the balls. The rhythmic music continued unabated, as balls were positioned against her clitoris, her navel, on the soles of her feet and on her buttocks. The more balls were pressed against her skin, the more urgent the spasmodic movements of her body became and the louder her cries of passion.

I watched absorbed and was by then starting to understand what it was that Lisa might have it in mind to commission from me. I was, however, not really focused on what I might build. I was thinking my way into the head of the black gloved individual who, even as I watched, manipulated the probe to thrust it deeper into the pussy of the squirming woman. Nice work if you can get it, I thought to myself, although it seemed to me that the owner of the hands was neglecting their duties, for the woman’s wonderful breasts hung invitingly downwards, nipples proudly erect, and yet there were no vibrating balls to stimulate them. Without thinking I voiced my thoughts,

“A couple of those stimulating balls against her nipples would be nice to see,” I said. I hadn’t meant to share this rather intimate thought, and mentally kicked myself, wondering how Lisa would take it. I looked at her, I needn’t have worried.

“Exactly!” She said, “I’d have climaxed immediately if you’d done that to me.” I laughed, mainly with relief that I hadn’t shocked her too much, and I noticed that I had been correct in my assumption about her lack of underwear; the swelling of her engorged nipples was clearly outlined beneath the smooth fabric of her top.

She took the phone back. “I’ll fast forward to the last section and you’ll see that her boobs don’t get completely neglected.” More fiddling with the phone ensued and she was right. The final section of the video showed the woman lying on her back, her legs spread wide, with a dildo deeply embedded in her pussy, and this time a vibrating ball on each of her nipples as well on her clitoris, belly, upper arms and feet. With this combination it did not take long for her to reach orgasm and, judging by her screams of pleasure and writhing body, a very satisfying one at that.

Lisa took the phone back. “What do you think?” She asked, her voice sounded rather husky. I looked at her. The sparkle in her eyes, the gentle pink flush on her face and the jutting nipples, stretching the fabric of her blouse, told their own story. Watching the video had aroused her as much as it had me. I tried to be professional.

“The video has been very helpful. Let me talk through you what I understand you are looking for and you can correct me as we go.” Lisa nodded and I began.

“The base looks like a padded table, similar to a massage table, certainly a little higher off the ground than, say, a dining table would be. It needs to be sturdy and that implies weight, so I suggest we put in on retractable castors to enable it to be moved easily. I don’t personally do the upholstery, but I work with a woman who does that sort of thing. We’ll specify it together; you can decide on the material you would like and then she will make it.

The stimulators, both balls and probes, are made of wood. I can turn the regular shaped ones on the lathe and carve and shape the curved ones. All of that is within my area of expertise. The best thing would be for you to roughly sketch the shapes and sizes that you’d like, and I will make them for you. They are all interchangeable so you can experiment and find out what works best. Alright so far?”

“Yes,” she said, “although the table doesn’t need wheels. It’s going to be the centrepiece of our games room; it won’t be moving.”

I was surprised, and not a little curious. “Are you sure?” I asked, “you might want a pool table or something in there one day.”

She looked at me mischievously, “the room is not for that sort of game,” she said. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her what other ‘games’ were catered for in this room of hers, but she continued before I could voice my thoughts.

“I like the idea of being flexible about the choice of probes though. The experiments sound like they could be a lot of fun too. I’ll get you to make a bespoke cabinet to hold the stimulators, once we’ve decided on a range of them. What next?”

“I’m afraid that’s where it gets a bit harder,” I was sorry to disillusion Lisa, but I had to be honest with her. “The articulated arms that hold the stimulators need to be made from metal, that’s not something I can do. Also, the stimulators need to vibrate. In the video I think they were supposed to move in time to the beat of the music, I’ll need to think about how to do that. It will certainly need some custom electronics and that again is something I can’t do.”

“Don’t you know anyone who could do those things for you?” Lisa’s face betrayed her disappointment.

“I do have someone that might be able to fabricate the metalwork,” I told her, “he’s retired now and travels a lot, he only does work for friends. He’ll do a great job, but I’ll have to see if he’s available. I don’t have anyone for the electronics though.

Lisa looked thoughtful and the smile returned to her face. “I might be able to solve that one for you,” she said, “my husband’s business must deal with lots of people who can do that sort of thing. Hang on.” Before I could say anything, she was talking on her phone.

“Hi Dave…Yes it’s going well but we need someone to build the electronics to drive the vibrating stuff, do you have anyone who could work with Pete on it?”

A few seconds passed before Lisa spoke again, “that’s great. I’ll tell Pete you’ll get him a name then. Love you, see you later.” She hung up the call and turned to me.

“Did you get the gist of that? Dave says he knows several people that would be able to do that kind of work and he’s going to find one of them for you. It might take him a day or two but not to hold anything up and to get on with the build.” Now she was smiling.

“He sounds very keen,” I mused. I hadn’t really meant that to say that out loud. I was wondering how I would feel, if I had a wife, about her spending a small fortune on a fucking machine.

“Oh, he is, she said with enthusiasm. “You saw the video, it’s a two-person operation getting someone installed on that machine. He sees himself as Mr Black Gloves, and he’s looking forward to it. What’s more, he’s hoping that when our more liberal-minded friends see the machine, it won’t just be my erogenous zones that he’ll be positioning his balls on. If you’ll pardon the double entendre.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to this, so I remained silent. Lisa broke the silence before it became awkward.

“Look Pete,” she said, “let me be frank with you. Dave and I have a great relationship, we have a good marriage. Our sex life is great but it’s a bit more, ‘shared’ with others, than maybe is the norm. We are not short of money and in the basement of our house we built our ‘games room.’ In that room we have various pieces of equipment that can, shall we say, provide an enhanced erotic experience, and we have a group of like-minded friends with whom we enjoy sharing that experience. As soon as we saw the machine in the video that I just showed you we decided that we wanted one like it and after a lot of research we decided we wanted to you make it.

The reason I came here today was to see whether I liked you and whether you could be trusted. After all you are going to be privy to elements of our private life that we would not want made generally public. Not only that, at some point we’re going to have to set up and test the machine, and you’re going to have to be Mr Black Gloves when I surrender myself to it for the first time.”

“And If I hadn’t passed the test, you wouldn’t have needed to say all that I suppose.”

“Pete, if you hadn’t passed the test, I wouldn’t even have shown you the video.” Lisa was emphatic and then a thought seemed to occur to her.

“You don’t have a wife, girlfriend or boyfriend that’s going to object to you probing the orifices of one of your customers do you?”

I laughed, “Didn’t that get covered by your extensive research?” I asked.

She smiled ruefully. “Dave might know, but it only just occurred to me. Well, have you?”

I let her sweat for a few seconds before reassuring her. “No. I was married once but it didn’t work out and I decided that being single was better for my sanity and I’m not gay.”

“So, you’ll take on the job then?” The big question.

I had already decided to agree to the job. For one thing I liked Lisa. She was one of those ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of people. She had been refreshingly frank from the start of our brief acquaintance, and I knew she was going to be a good customer. For another, the machine itself was likely to prove interesting to make and was outside my comfort zone. I had recently found myself in a bit of a rut creatively speaking and this would certainly jolt me out of it. For another, if it went as well as I hoped it would, Lisa’s cohort of liberated friends might well be in the market for something along similar lines. It might prove to be a lucrative and entertaining line of business alongside my erstwhile rather dull cabinet making. And finally, although I hated to admit it, the thought of carefully positioning multiple wooden stimulators on the most sensitive points of Lisa’s naked body was something of a bonus.

“In principle, yes.” I said, and the look of relief on her face was almost comical. “But, your Dave has to find me someone to build the electronics and Brian, my metalworking man, has to agree to make the bits that I can’t. And of course, I need to estimate and quote you a price and you need to accept it.”

Lisa smiled, “I can’t see price being a problem, but yes, you’re right a quote, based on an outline design is the next step. How long would that take?”